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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27510991">chanter en yaourt</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/El_Bee/pseuds/El_Bee'>El_Bee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Gen, Post-Time Skip, Self-Indulgent, Slice of Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 04:02:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,076</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27510991</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/El_Bee/pseuds/El_Bee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A few scenes from your relationship with Tendou and how it develops and grows.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tendou Satori &amp; Reader, Tendou Satori/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>chanter en yaourt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, this is self-indulgent as all hell, and I do not care anymore. I just wanted to write some soft little scenes for Tendou and I have such deep brain rot for him and this where we are. </p><p>chanter en yaourt means ‘to sing through yogurt’ in French, which is the phrase for when you’re stumbling your way through a language that you don’t know all that well and kinda just making up words and phrases in an attempt to communicate.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>You meet fighting over the last tub of chocolate ice cream at the Carrefour on the Rue de Seine; your hands both grabbing for the tub at the same time. You narrow your eyes and tug, unwilling to give it up. You stare straight into Tendou's crimson eyes, explaining that you ‘need this’ and that ‘your hand is directly on the tub, so you were there first and it is yours.' He laughs and you hear an accent you don’t recognise, it’s not French, much like yours. He puts his hands up in mock surrender and tells you that if you take it, you owe him one. Somehow this whole encounter leads to sitting outside the Les Deux Magots with carafes of the house red, ice cream slowly melting in the plastic bag sat under your table.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>This is the beginning of your unlikely friendship. You find yourself meeting up and sight-seeing in your free time. You see the Sacre Coeur one day, find yourself at the top of the stairs of the Trocadéro to take ridiculous pictures another. Sometimes your days are simple, eating lemon tarts in the gardens of the Eiffel Tower, and other times you both wander around the Louvre, laughter echoing inappropriately as you watch as Tendou contorts himself into the poses represented in the paintings around you. Somehow these day trips change in tone so subtly neither of you really notice, your hands slip into each others, he ends up paying so much more, bringing you chocolates, sometimes flowers, you find yourself putting in a bit more effort with your appearance... Paris lays out before you like a jewel; you fall in love on the Île Saint-Louis listening to jazz and sharing moules frites.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>One long weekend, you both board the Eurostar to visit your hometown, London. And you watch Tendou fall in love with the city you've always known as home. His face lights up as he passes people with wild hair, piercings, crazy outfits, different nationalities, the underground full of different languages, and friendship groups composed of what he sees a ragtag group of people. He tells you one night, as you quietly ride the Victoria line home that the atmosphere is making him homesick for his Volleyball friends, but that he feels so at home with you there. You introduce him to your friends and family and you all point blank refuse to do anything touristy with him. Your best friend tells him over a plate Injera next time you visit he can do all that shit, but for now, he needs to see the real London. It's in front of Bradley's Spanish Bar, stood amongst the throng of after-work drinkers, smoke lingering on your breaths from the shared hand-rolled cigarettes that mixes into the flavour of the Budvar you've been drinking all night, that you kiss for the first time, bags underneath your feet and the sound of a Friday night heating up in London buzzing in your ears.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You meet Ushijima when he visits Tendou from Poland. Ushijima speaks minimal English and not a word of French. You speak basic Japanese and not a word of Polish. Tendou fills in the blanks for both you. You find Ushijima stranger than Tendou had described to you, you think he's so serious, and as they catch up all the stories Tendou has told you about his time at school slot into the places between Ushijima's stories, and you find yourself surprised that your boyfriend was the one classmates found weird. As the heat of multiple glasses of wine seeps into your flesh, you find your face painted with a sloppy smile at the scene before you; two unlikely friends finding comfort in each other. After the next glass, you have to excuse yourself to drunkenly weep in the bathroom stall of the small bar you're in, overcome with emotion and the strength of Tendou for overcoming his childhood bullying and becoming the man he is today, overcome with gratitude for Ushijima, your boyfriend's friend who has stuck by him through and through.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Years later, you both fly out to Japan for the Olympics. Ushijima securing tickets for the men's volleyball final for you both. You spend almost a week all but running behind Tendou as he shoves different snacks and drinks into your hands and watching your face with anticipation as you bite into numerous onigiri and buns. Eventually, you have to tell him to calm down; that you have almost a month in Japan together for you to eat all the snacks and traditional sweets. You travel to Miyagi and meet his parents, they welcome you with open arms, and your heart all but bursts. Through the years your Japanese has gotten so much better, and Tendou’s English has too, making the meeting sweet and easy. You meet all his old volleyball friends and his classmates, and later in the night you and Semi have a loud drunken sake fuelled argument about the best punk bands, your London accent the thickest it has been in years. You promise to make him a playlist and expand his horizons - a tradition that continues long after you and Tendou fly back home.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tendou spends a lot of time catching up on the little things he's been missing from home, namely arcades and manga. Before you flew out you both already agreed that it was inevitable that you would post yourselves back some souvenirs and items he wanted to pick up. One day at the arcade, he excitedly encourages you to plunge hundreds of yen into gashapon machines, curbing your craving for sailor moon charms and Sanrio products. Before your fingers can curl around the plastic pods, you find them snatched away from you. Tendou places them all into his pocket and tells you that you can open them once you're back in the AirBnB. He reasons with you that if you find the contents disappointing, you'll be tempted to spend more money cranking the machine, and it is an expensive and addictive habit to break. You take his advice, knowing he spent years of his life pouring money into these machines. You fidget all day wishing to crack open the plastic pods and see what they have inside. In a bustling Izakaya, he hands you a single pod as you drink beers and order plates of yakitori. You crack it open almost immediately and see inside a sparkling diamond ring.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If it isn’t obvious, I am super homesick for London. If you ever find yourself there, go to Bradley’s Spanish Bar - it has the best jukebox in London.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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